


What's Mine is Yours

by handhellbasket



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Jinnobi Challenge, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Mace Windu (fantasy only), References to Knotting, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Surprise Knotting, Voyeurism, sex toys gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 21:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handhellbasket/pseuds/handhellbasket
Summary: The trouble with everything a Jedi owns being stock-standard Jedi issue is that, well, everything a Jedi owns is stock-standard Jedi issue and there's not much to differentiate one Jedi's belongings from any other's.Obi-Wan picks up the wrong bag at the end of a mission. It's one thing to use your Master's toothbrush, a whole other to use his vibrator.





	What's Mine is Yours

Qui-Gon threw the duffel on  _ his _ bed. The bed actually sized for his height, with blankets that didn’t itch and a pillow scented with ironwithe and orange gorse. He flopped down and buried his face in the soothing scents. 

He was never leaving the Temple again.

After several long moments spent bemoaning his aching back he rolled over enough to start emptying his pack. Spare uniform and spare, spare-uniform on the floor - both liberally crusted with foul smelling mud after their three week escort mission had gone thoroughly sideways - and destined for either the laundry or, hopefully, the trash heap. Comb, medkit, toothbrush, and razor were all tossed atop the dresser where they landed with light clacks. He’d take them through to the fresher whenever Obi-Wan finally emerged. 

Encrypted datapad on the bedside table, unencrypted datapad on top. He had to remember to thank Mace for the loan -  _ The Pirate Lord’s Lovers  _ had been exactly the right sort of light-hearted trash to while away four days in hyperspace with. Buried right at the bottom of his bag was a discreet black pouch containing his StarVibe Nova ( _ it vibes, it thrusts, it even knots! Now equipped with ultra-discrete remote control and unique hyper-expansion technology for  _ **_maximum_ ** _ pleasure _ ).

That he left where it was. It had been a long eight weeks and Obi-Wan would go straight from the fresher to his rooms. He had the rest of the afternoon to decide what to do with that while his Padawan napped and caught up on his mail.

Silence - right on cue. Obi-Wan had just finished in the fresher.

His Padawan had been fifteen when he burst out with “Sithspit, Master - I stink, you stink, and we’ve spent two weeks being  _ literally smuggled _ back to Coruscant! I’m going to have a sandwich, a shower, and then I’m going to finally finish my book on Alderaani economic policy. You, and Bant, and Master Yoda himself can all just wait until I’ve had an hour to myself, alright?”

Since then his post mission routine had only ever varied as to whether the sandwich or the shower happened first.

Qui-Gon had worried at first, but after all these years he’d also learnt to enjoy having a few hours to decompress after a long mission. A Jedi didn’t get much peace or privacy with a Padawan around. 

\---

Obi-Wan rifled through his bag with an old, vaguely greenish towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Two spare uniforms joined the third in the laundry chute. The medkit went on the dresser for now - he’d been impatient and hadn’t taken it to the fresher when he’d grabbed his toiletries earlier. The unencrypted datapad clattered onto the bedside table but the mission-safe encrypted pad went on the desk for charging. 

Right down the bottom of the bag was the slender black pouch that contained his favourite post-mission indulgence. The StarVibe Galaxy was a fairly basic model but the remote control allowed for a highly customisable hands free experience.

Shivers of anticipation ran up his spine as he knelt to fish under the bed for the short hank of soft, pale blue rope he’d tucked under the mattress. Qui-Gon wouldn’t enter his room without permission and he had probably another two, maybe even three hours, until his Master would start rattling around in the living space, preparing tea and hinting loudly that he’d like company while he drank it. 

He wondered, sometimes, just how Qui-Gon spent that time. Whether he occasionally lay on his own bed and touched himself - whether he would lazily stroke his shaft or fuck hard into his fist …

He shivered.

_ Not yet. _

It had been a simple mission but a long one and he’d had his fill of frantic, furtive masturbation.

He sat cross-legged on the bed with the towel coarse beneath him and the rope a silky tease across his bare thighs. The StarVibe’s remote was unmarked ‘for discretion’ which in Obi-Wan’s opinion mostly made it look more suspicious. The first month he’d had it he’d fucked himself with the user manual spread out on the pillow by his head just in case.

After all this time, though, keying in his preferences was pure muscle memory. Top button - the largest - for power. Five presses to the first button on the left to set a short delay. Then the keys for vibration intensity and duration. He wanted it  _ hard _ at first and while it would alternate between teasing and punishing, the vibrations wouldn’t stop for the whole hour.

Or until he hit the power button again, but that was hardly as arousing as the idea of being fucked constantly, without pause or pity, until he was a wrecked-out mess. A pile of trembling limbs sprawled on the bed where he’d been left.

A breath hissed out between his teeth. 

Final key for random variation and he wanted a lot of it. Wanted to sink into a fantasy where anything could happen and everything was beyond his control.

He’d teased himself open in the shower so all he needed was a few squirts of lube along the glossy black head and down the shaft and “ _ Ohhh _ ...” 

It had been a while - the stretch felt more than it had in months. He rocked the toy gently deeper and pictured Qui-Gon’s face. Qui-Gon tenderly but inexorably feeding his shaft inside. 

_ Oh,  _ that was _ good _ .

Pleased smile hiding behind his beard and enormous hands soft and encouraging on his hips and -

\- Obi-Wan opened up and took everything. The whole shaft slid home all at once.

Eyes half-lidded in hazy pleasure, Obi-Wan wiped the excess lube on the towel beneath him and grabbed the rope. 

His hands shook slightly as he tied it snug-but-not-tight around one wrist - he’d learnt that lesson too. He placed the remote carefully beside it, where he could pick it up when he was ready, and looped the loose end around a slat in the headboard. 

Tying his other wrist was trickier but long practice and the use of his teeth left him with a bowline around each wrist. It was harder to remove in a hurry than some other knots but wouldn’t tighten around his wrists no matter how he struggled. 

And eventually he would struggle.

He knelt, bound on the bed, with the remote carefully grasped in one loose fist, and waited.

In his head time ticked forward. 

Even expecting it, the first pulse took him by surprise. He gasped quietly and bit his lower lip as pleasure raced through him from his head down to his toes.  _ Fuck _ yes for random variation. 

The toy rode his prostate hard. Like an over-eager lover, like he hadn’t been the only one aching with want all this time. It didn’t let up, either.

Quiet breaths escaped through clenched teeth as he resisted the urge to rub against the towel beneath him. He didn’t need the extra stimulation - not yet. He sank his face into the pillows. Imagined burying his face in the crook of Qui-Gon’s neck as his Master held the toy inside. 

Or perhaps … 

His Master had few close friends in the order, but … Master Windu?

He held that thought in his mind, testing it as his cock throbbed in time with the urgent vibrations inside. 

“Yes,” he hissed softly and let the fantasy unspool. 

Qui-Gon on the bed, grounding him with a strong grasp on his wrists. Master Windu watching from the doorway, for now, cock visibly hard through his robes. Qui-Gon chuckling and tugging his braid.Telling him to be good for their guest. Master Windu teasingly shaking his head, hand - hand stroking himself through the rough linen of his tunic. 

“I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t already been good enough to earn it,” he’d say. Or maybe, “With an ass like that I couldn’t care less how good he is.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. He liked the idea of being good more. Wanted Master Windu there as  _ his _ reward. Wanted him to see how  _ good _ Obi-Wan could be - how much he could take.

He arched his back a little, showing off, and the new angle was somehow even better. He held his breath as an orgasm exploded through him, every muscle frozen so his uneven breathing or creaking bed couldn’t give him away.

_ Gods all _ he thought he’d programmed some variation in!

The toy didn’t let up, hadn’t altered it’s rhythm even once and all Obi-Wan could do was breathe through it even as discomfort started to tinge along his over-stimulated nerves. An hour of this might well kill him but  _ fuck _ if he wasn’t enjoying it for now.

Deliberately, he unclenched his jaw. Pictured Qui-Gon’s hands on him, soft and soothing along trembling limbs. Added Master Windu’s palms warm and callused on the back of his neck and lightly brushing against his ass as he thrust the toy deeper, curious how much Obi-Wan could take.

“Good boy,” he imagined, not particularly caring which of them might say it as he rode the aftershocks. Perhaps when he was truly exhausted - relaxed with orgasm and too wrung out to get hard again - perhaps they’d slide inside him one after the other and finish with lazy thrusts.

Except it was hard to picture Master Windu lazy. Perhaps he’d suck him off first. Let Master Windu grip his hair tight and fuck down his throat as Qui-Gon watched with heated eyes and shifted beneath Obi-Wan. Eager for his own turn - perhaps harder knowing Obi-Wan would be full of someone elses cum when it was finally his turn to thrust inside.

Obi-Wan felt his cock starting to stir, the relentless stimulation easily enough to bring him to half-mast. 

And coming twice - Master Windu would probably fuck him  _ forever _ . He’d be determined to enjoy such a rare occurrence. Obi-Wan would want him … behind. Behind and almost completely dressed leaving Obi-Wan practically cocooned between them both. Coarse fabric on overheated skin and hands tight on his hips. Master Windu might even curse, surprised at how good it felt to bury himself deep inside him.

All the while his Master’s cock would be hard against Obi-Wan’s hip. He’d guide Master Windu - tell him exactly how Obi-Wan liked to be taken. Qui-Gon would be an utter bastard, sliding his fingers into Obi-Wan’s mouth to silence his barely articulate pleas for more and harder and _ anything  _ as long as they got him out of his head.

He needed to sneak away for an evening. Hadn’t gone to his knees even for his yearmates in months. Sex with the other padawans was fun even if it didn’t hit all of his buttons.

The thrum of the vibrator changed ever so slightly and Obi-Wan felt a small part of himself relax. He hadn’t made a mistake with the programming, the vagaries of random chance were just a little more extreme than normal.

His fingers loosened around the remote and then  _ sweet Qel-Droma _ something shifted and he was coming hard enough to mark the headboard.

Obi-Wan panted for breath as every muscle in his body seemed to spasm.He didn’t know what was happening but  _ fuck _ it felt good. Like the vibrator had grown an inch or more around and -

It was thrusting. Somehow.

It wasn’t supposed to thrust. 

That was  _ not _ a standard feature.

It felt good, though. So, so good it was like his orgasm had never ended.

Except then it swelled further. Pressure turned into pain and no matter how he shifted it didn’t stop growing and it didn’t stop hurting.

His empty hand clenched where the remote should be and that was when he felt panic start to claw at his throat. He scrabbled at the edge of the bed, searching for the lost remote. Then at the rope around his wrists but orgasm and adrenaline had left his hands shaking and he couldn’t work the knots.

\---

Sprawled shirtless on his bed, Qui-Gon had three fingers in his mouth and his trousers shoved around his thighs when he heard a loud thump and an angry sounding grunt from his Padawan’s bedroom. He removed his fingers with a slick pop and waited, hoping Obi-Wan had just dropped his datapad behind the bed again.

He’d been thinking about that book again - like he hadn’t properly been able to at the time. Obi-Wan had been sitting on the opposite bunk when he’d come to this scene but Qui-Gon had read it three times straight through and didn’t need the datapad to summon up the image of a mouthy, red-headed cabin boy draped half-naked across the Pirate Lord’s desk. 

He’d just settled the mental debate between lube or the rougher slide of spit-slick fingers inside him and was well on the way to an orgasm hot enough to scorch his beard off.

_ Please, let it be the datapad. _

Then, a thin, choked cry and Qui-Gon was tugging up his pants and crossing the room before he even remembered his lack of shirt. He hesitated for a moment, fingers on the door control but in that moment Obi-Wan called for him in an uncertain voice.

He burst into Obi-Wan’s room and promptly swallowed his tongue.

Every inch of pale skin was flushed pink and slick with sweat. Obi-Wan’s thighs, spread and trembling, framed his half-hard cock and drew Qui-Gon’s attention directly to the vibrating shaft stretching his  … his Padawan.

Who looked an awful lot like something Qui-Gon really shouldn’t be looking at right now.

With a great deal of effort he dragged his eyes to the floor.

Obi-Wan sighed and shifted and Qui-Gon’s gaze fell right back on  _ his Padawan _ . 

Who was looking right back. His lower lip was plump and red with pale tooth-marks starkly visible.

Gods  _ above and below _ Obi-Wan’s cock was hardening as he watched. 

Obi-Wan flinched and dropped his eyes. “Can you get the knots for me? I need to reach the remote.”

His voice broke on the last word and he dropped his head to his clenched hands. Qui-Gon couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or overwhelmed but his heart twisted with sympathy. He wouldn’t have wanted his own Master to have ever found him in this situation either.

“Of course,” he agreed. His was voice was casual, dispassionate. Acting like he wasn’t hard enough to pass out.

Kneeling by Obi-Wan’s bed allowed him to see that Obi-Wan’s hands weren’t just clenched, they were bound in gorgeous blue rope which set off his eyes. Even pressed to the bed his hands were shaking, so it was no wonder Obi-Wan couldn’t get the knots himself.

“Why’d you choose a bowline?” he asked curiously. “I know you know there’s better knots for this.”

Breath ragged in his lungs, Obi-Wan chuckled. “I thought I was-” he groaned, hips twitching, “making a sensible choice.”

Qui-Gon hummed inquiringly so he didn’t have to speak. Obi-Wan’s wrists were warm beneath his hands, which felt far too clumsy all of a sudden. He was incredibly lucky the bed blocked Obi-Wan’s view from the waist down and felt like utter scum for reacting like this to an unwilling invasion of Obi-Wan’s privacy and personal dignity.

But there was a wet splatter on the headboard - mere inches from Qui-Gon’s face - and for all he was a Jedi he was still a sexual being and Obi-Wan was a gorgeous young man.

“Circulation,” Obi-Wan muttered. He ducked his head to rub against his shoulder, unwittingly leaving his braid draped across his throat for a moment like a personal attack from the universe. “Hells, faster please before this gets even more embarrassing.”

Fingers abruptly still, Qui-Gon darted a gaze at his restless, trembling Padawan. His face was so close. His eyes impossible to look away from. “Would it - should I remove the - uh - the item instead?”

Obi-Wan hesitated but shook his head. “There’s something wrong with it - I’m not sure. I just need the remote.” 

Qui-Gon tore his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s own and bent to the task at hand. 

\---

Qui-Gon’s fingers were a torment where they brushed against the delicate skin of his inner wrist. In this moment he needed those hands to _ clamp down _ more than he needed air!

A shudder raced down his spine as the toy rocked against his prostate again and again. With his Master’s reassuring presence and the shaft’s initially rapid expansion halted he couldn’t hold on to the panic he’d first felt. 

With the fear beginning to ebb it just felt so  _ good  _ and with Qui-Gon here he was safe and he couldn’t stop himself from clenching tentatively around the toy’s immense girth as it fucked him like he’d needed to be fucked all his life.

He ducked his head in a futile attempt to feel less exposed and couldn’t help the whine that crept up his throat. He didn’t know if he needed more stimulation or less; if he wanted his Master to untie him or simply to stay in this moment forever. 

“Master - Master, please,” he begged. He couldn't say  _ what _ he needed just that he  _ did _ .

And Qui-Gon’s breath caught and his fingers pressed hard where Obi-Wan’s pulse thundered in his wrists and that was all it took for an orgasm to rip through his body like a hurricane.

\---

Qui-Gon’s mouth was desert-dry. He needed a drink. 

He needed a  _ drink _ .

He needed to forget the sight of his beautiful Padawan crying out in orgasmic bliss - begging beneath Qui-Gon’s hands. 

Obi-Wan blinked muzzily and moaned. His hips thrust lazily against the bed and he nuzzled Qui-Gon’s chest as he somehow relaxed even further against him.

What he needed most was to pull that damned toy out and fuck Obi-Wan right back to unconsciousness.

His cock throbbed so hard he could scarcely breathe. There was little point lying to himself. As soon as he got Obi-Wan’s wrists untied he was going to flee back to his rooms and wank himself raw remembering his Padawan’s breathy plea.

At least Obi-Wan was so boneless - so well fucked, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking - that he’d stopped shaking aside from the occasional twitch of his hips as the toy continued it’s practically subaural buzzing. The knotted rope was easier to untangle now with only Qui-Gon’s own shivers to deal with.

Obi-Wan grumbled something incoherent as he pulled the rope gently away and re-wound it into a coil. 

“Where’s the remote?” Qui-Gon asked gently since Obi-Wan was apparently too blissed out (fucked - his brain corrected, he’s being fucked senseless  _ right in front of you _ ) to remember.

Another grumble and then Qui-Gon was left abruptly breathless as soft lips brushed his chest in an absently affectionate kiss. “I dunno,” Obi-Wan mumbled. “Izzn’that your job?”

He sighed, stretching the long line of his back and nuzzling further against Qui-Gon in a way that did not help his oxygen problem  _ at all _ . “Stars above that was fantastic. We should do that-”

He froze, eyes darting up to Qui-Gon’s face. Qui-Gon only then realised that his Padawan’s gaze had until now been riveted to his chest.

As Obi-Wan’s brain visibly rebooted the pink flush of exercise was replaced by a deep, mortified red. “Oh.”

Qui-Gon felt a deep surge of sympathy. “That doesn’t remotely compete with the top ten stupidest things I’ve said after sex,” he assured Obi-Wan. With a slight quirk of an eyebrow he continued, “although you might want to work on remembering who you’ve slept with. Regrettably I can’t take any of the credit for how it looks like you’re feeling.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth. 

Blinked.

Shut it again firmly.

“Master..?” he asked cautiously. 

Qui-Gon cleared his throat abruptly at the reminder of their respective statuses. “Do you require any further assistance, Padawan?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were locked to his now. “Yes,” he said slowly. “The remote, if you wouldn’t mind. I think it fell down the headboard.”

Qui-Gon wanted to object - wanted to flee the room in fact - unsure why, but feeling dead certain there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been present a moment before.

Shuffling closer to the bed brought his attention unwillingly back to the heavy weight of his cock between his thighs and the heavy scent of well fucked male both. He stiffened - figuratively and literally - at the press of his shaft against the mattress as he leaned forward.

From a purely technical point of view Obi-Wan was nestled in his arms as he pulled the edge of the mattress away from the wall. This was not something Qui-Gon was thinking about. Not the tingling brush of warmth as skin brushed skin or the way Obi-Wan leaned into what was only technically an embrace.

One hand closed around the small control and he blinked as he raised it to the light. 

“Is this mine?” he exclaimed.

Obi-Wan jolted so hard he almost brained himself on Qui-Gon’s chin. 

“Why would it be yours?” 

If there had been an embrace it was definitely over now. Obi-Wan twisted around to stare at the remote. “How would your - wait you have a - but your remote shouldn’t control my -”

His voice stuttered to a stop and then continued with a final, shocked, “Oh.”

Qui-Gon took a second longer to arrive at the same conclusion, mostly because the first time it occurred to him he almost passed out.

Obi-Wan stared at him. Qui-Gon stared back at his Padawan’s blown pupils and followed the flicker of Obi-Wan’s tongue against his lips. 

“Even if you walked out the door right now,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “Even if we didn’t - we’d just be in our separate rooms imagining it, wouldn’t we?”

There was no honest answer Qui-Gon could give to that question, but Obi-Wan nodded so he supposed his silence was answer enough. Meanwhile, his thoughts were turning.

_ If they’d already broken the spirit of that particular tenet …  _

_ Was it worth obeying the hollow letter of a mere council ruling? _

He took a deep breath and covered Obi-Wan’s clenched fists with his own hands. Obi-Wan glanced at him in shock before his face broke into an immense grin. Qui-Gon pressed a button on the Nova’s remote and set it aside as Obi-Wan gasped and let out a quiet, mournful whine at the knot’s rapid deflation.

“How do you like it?” Qui-Gon asked as the shaft let out a final whir. 

A glorious stretch of pale flesh was his reply as Obi-Wan removed the toy and set it aside. “Hard,” he finally said with a challenging glint in his eye. “Fuck me until I cry and then keep going.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Pain?”

Obi-Wan screwed up his face amusingly. Clearly not then.

“Submission?” he said uncertainly. “I like being overwhelmed. I like being made to push my limits.” He glanced slyly at Qui-Gon with a chuckle. “I love praise.”

None of that was a problem from Qui-Gon’s point of view. Even the gentle dig at Qui-Gon’s standards as Obi-Wan’s Master.

He brushed a kiss across the skin of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see how well you take my cock,” he murmured as he withdrew. “Do you think you can come again for me if I fuck you like you need?”

Obi-Wan’s hands were suddenly at the waist of Qui-Gon’s trousers. His cock was soft between his thighs but from the eagerness with which he was manhandling Qui-Gon onto the bed he suspected there was indeed the potential to see Obi-Wan crying out in orgasm again.

“Good boy,” Qui-Gon breathed as he hovered above Obi-Wan on his elbows. “Gods, you need it, don’t you?”

He swallowed Obi-Wan’s attempt at an answer with a kiss that was soft but inexorable. His cockhead brushed Obi-Wan’s gaping entrance as they moved together.

“Tease!” Obi-Wan pulled back to protest with an expression of exaggerated outrage plastered over his gorgeous features. 

“Like I haven’t been hard as rock watching you,” Qui-Gon said reasonably. He traced a leisurely path down Obi-Wan’s neck and chest to scrape his fingernails through the trail of hair leading up from his cock. “You can stand to wait another minute. Are these sensitive by the way?”

He dropped his mouth to an ear, and chuckled inwardly at startled expression he glimpsed as he did so. Obi-Wan shot half off the bed when he sucked the lobe into his mouth. 

“Bastard!” he gasped, laughing. 

Qui-Gon tugged gently with his teeth to distract from the motion of his hand and let go. “I’m so sorry, were you hoping I’d touch something else?”

“I was hoping you’d -  _ fuck me! _ ” A breathy cry.

Qui-Gon couldn’t answer, mesmerised by Obi-Wan’s face as he finally got what he wanted. The slow slide into hot, wet sensation was torment but Obi-Wan’s  _ face! _

“You look gorgeous like this.” Qui-Gon’s voice was shot, rough with need and desire. 

“And how do I feel?” Obi-Wan teased. His voice, Qui-Gon was pleased to note, wasn’t in much better shape. “Wrapped around your cock, desperate for anything you’ll give me - is it as good as you hoped?”

“Better.” 

Better than anything Qui-Gon had imagined on early mornings with his hand on his cock and his face buried in a pillow to muffle his moans. Obi-Wan was relaxed down to his bones - the Nova’s knot had left him loose and fully lubed, letting Qui-Gon fuck him with punishing strokes. “Gods, look at how well you take me.”

Obi-Wan moaned and took his slowly hardening shaft in one hand. Qui-Gon slid a hand down to wrap his fingers through Obi-Wan’s. “That’s it, beautiful,” he breathed as Obi-Wan stroked himself with their joined hands. “Show me how you like it. Let me watch you fall apart.”

He fucked Obi-Wan as smoothly as he could. Deep strokes, grinding their hips together every time he sank home. Praise and endearments fell from his lips as Obi-Wan brought himself closer and closer to orgasm. He was stretched enough to clench and flutter beautifully around Qui-Gon’s cock without ever really getting tighter and it felt so good Qui-Gon could have happily  _ died _ from it.

A long thigh wrapped around Qui-Gon’s back, Obi-Wan instantly took advantage of his new leverage to meet Qui-Gon’s thrusts with even more enthusiasm. Sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat as he tossed his head and his gorgeous blue eyes were clenched shut and damp with tears. 

“I’m close,” he gasped. “Gods I’m close. Are you ready or do you need more?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “More, please. I’m close but - Master, please. I need-” Obi-Wan’s voice broke and he shook his head again.

Qui-Gon removed his hand from Obi-Wan’s cock, fingers wet with precome. “I’ll give you what you need, love,” he promised and ran a finger shakily along the raw, red line of Obi-Wan’s lower lip. “I’ll give you everything I have and if it’s not enough I’ll plug you full and suck your cock until it is.”

Obi-Wan licked his lower lip clean then opened his mouth. It was warm and wet and his tongue danced filthily along Qui-Gon’s fingers. Qui-Gon couldn’t help a shuddering moan at the sensation. “Just like that,” he agreed faintly. “I’ll tie you back down and make you come til you pass out if that’s what you need.”

He slid another finger inside, stretching Obi-Wan’s mouth and utterly incapable of not imagining it stretched around his cock instead. Obi-Wan moaned like a back-alley whore and his entire body seemed to melt as he came in hot spurts over Qui-Gon’s chest.

Qui-Gon bowed his head and came with just a few more powerful thrusts and a sound that might have been a sob caught in his throat.

\---

For once, Obi-Wan let himself enjoy the moment. The weight of his Master’s head on his chest, the smell of ironwithe in his hair and the lingering fullness of Qui-Gon’s softening cock. Most of the cum on his skin was still warm enough to be pleasant and the stuff that wasn’t he could ignore a little while longer.

He felt centered, and relaxed, and like he’d be doing walking meditations for the next week because it would be  _ at least _ that long until he could sit down.

A languid stretch netted him both Qui-Gon’s StarVibe and it’s remote. Clearly not the same model as his own, but that only made him more curious. Did Qui-Gon have it for his own use? Or was it something for his lovers?

Qui-Gon had suggested using it on him, he thought with a pleasant shiver. He could see the appeal in being held open by the toy’s immense girth - stretched as far as he could bear - until Qui-Gon chose to fuck him with no other preparation required. 

Trial and error helped him find the button for size and he raised an eyebrow at the impressive girth the knot could reach. Trial and error also helped him find the button for vibration.

“Sith hells, turn that off.” Qui-Gon waved a hand fruitlessly in his direction. “Let an old man have a nap in peace.”

“Hardly old,” Obi-Wan commented. “I have it on good authority that you’re not old until Master Yoda stops offering to spar with you.”

Qui-Gon snorted and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “If Yoda shows up for a spar today I’ll shove that stick somewhere even you’d find uncomfortable.”

Obi-Wan spluttered. “Why, Master! Such disrespect!”

A jabbing finger to the side was his rightfully earned reward for such cheek. Obi-Wan grinned harder. “If you didn’t like that you’ll hate me telling you that we have to move.”

Shifting by slow, painful inches, Qui-Gon lifted his head enough to glare balefully up at Obi-Wan through his tangled hair. “You’re joking.”

“Nope - I’m filthy.”

Qui-Gon grinned devilishly. “You are that. An utter degenerate.” He stretched luxuriously and Obi-Wan let himself be briefly distracted by the play of muscle. “Out of curiosity, what does a man have to do to earn a second invitation to your bed?”

“Invite me to his,” Obi-Wan said entirely on automatic. “Mine is far too small for company.”

That earned a throaty laugh as Qui-Gon glanced around the room. “They really would prefer you focused on your studies, wouldn’t they?” His lingering gaze drew Obi-Wan’s to the rather oversized desk in the corner. 

“And entire generations of Padawans have found ways to combine duty and pleasure,” Obi-Wan agreed. He had some very fond memories featuring that desk.

Qui-Gon’s eyes darkened. “Join me tonight? If you’ve no other invitations?”

Heavens, Qui-Gon had high opinions of Obi-Wan’s desirability if he thought he could wrangle a bedmate within hours of returning to the Temple. He rolled them over, pinning Qui-Gon to the bed and staring into his eyes.

“I’d be delighted, but - are you sure?”

“Of course.” Qui-Gon’s grin faded as he turned serious. “I know you’ve ambitions, and that a serious relationship would scarcely suit them-”

“Ambitions?” Obi-Wan squawked. 

“If you don’t have a council seat by the time you’re forty it’ll be a damned travesty.” Qui-Gon’s voice was forceful and full of conviction. 

All Obi-Wan could do in response to that was kiss him. Not just because he was intensely warmed by Qui-Gon’s faith, but because Qui-Gon was an idiot. “Knight Mundi has five wives and a proxy seat,” he responded once he felt he’d properly made his point. “I’m sure I can manage.”

Qui-Gon studied him with warm eyes and a soft smile. “I think we’ve more to discuss here, but since we seem to be thinking along similar lines shall we talk more after we bathe?”

Obi-Wan kissed him again, taking his time and enjoying the scrape of Qui-Gon’s stubble almost as much as the hope of a thousand more such kisses. “If you let me wash your hair we’ve got a deal.”


End file.
